


Tidbits

by SupremeMotherHen



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/F, joaniarty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 21:51:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5391662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupremeMotherHen/pseuds/SupremeMotherHen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cluster of unrelated Joan and Jamie ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tidbits

**Author's Note:**

> A bunch ficlets I had laying around my Tumblr.

**Morning**

“Wakey-wakey”

Joan was startled awake by the voice she was slowly growing accustomed to waking up to these last few weeks. She had a choice of ignoring the voice and going back to sleep or facing the inevitable encounter sooner rather than later. Joan blindly reached for her phone on the nightstand that Sherlock had recently brought home for her in an effort to make her room feel more like home. Locating it, she dragged it under the covers with her to check the time. With a groan, Joan decided that maybe it was time to get up.    


"I swear you, and Sherlock want me to die of exhaustion." Joan mumbled with a yawn, making sure to stretch her arms wide enough to hit her intruder in the face.  


 "And you're progressing to physical violence. I may be rubbing off on you." Jamie placed a feather-light kiss on Joan's departing knuckles.

 Joan retrieved her toothbrush and a towel before heading off to the bathroom. "Make yourself useful and fix my bed while I'm gone."

 

**Headlock**

They were cuddling.

 Or at least that’s what Joan thought they were doing. It was unlike any kind of cuddling she had ever experienced before. It was more like a submission move Joan had seen in a wrestling match but she couldn’t recall the name. It was mildly threatening yet it was somehow tender. Joan wasn’t sure how to get out of it.

 She hadn’t meant to fall asleep but after her and Jamie’s impromptu romp and the previous 25 hours she had spent wrapping up a case with Sherlock, she couldn’t fight off the sleep. Now she was naked, surprisingly well rested and desperately searching for an effective escape route. She could just wake Jamie up but she would rather skip the awkwardness that was sure to follow. It happened every time they found themselves forgetting to hate each other for a little while. The frequency with which these moments occurred was rapidly increasing and it scared the shit out of both of them. Not that either of them would admit it.

 

**The Gift**

Jamie was distracted.

 She was in the middle of a hostile takeover, a year in the making, and she was distracted. Her main reason being the bracelet on her enemy’s wrist. Joan would like that bracelet. Not the exact one the other woman was wearing but one just like it.

 Pressing the cold steel of her knife to the woman’s throat, “Where did you get that?” she asked, gesturing to the piece of jewelry.

 The other woman was confused. She was being robbed of $100 million dollars and most likely about to die but Moriarty wanted to know about her bracelet?

 "Time is of the essence, dear. Where did you get that?" Jamie applied more force to the knife, just barely breaking the skin on the woman’s neck.

 "Fuck you." is all the other woman managed to say before Jamie let her lieutenants finish her off. Nothing too gruesome, just a light nudge off the top of a five story building.

 Jamie finished compiling the dossier that she would be sending to Sherlock and Joan.The three of them had been chasing Marcella Whitlock for a year. For different reasons, clearly, but they were all chasing her nonetheless. Jamie for this woman’s disregard of her turf, Joan and Sherlock for a few murders Whitlock was connected to.

 "Have this sent to Holmes and Watson." Jamie handed the finished dossier to her lieutenant. She hoped they would appreciate this. Their dense "justice" system gave Marcella immunity for bits of information, overlooking several murders and child abductions she was clearly connected to. Usually Jamie was thankful for their doltish behavior but not when it upset Joan for months on end. Upsetting Joan is unacceptable.

 The only thing left now was to find Joan a birthday gift. She decided against the bracelet. Surely Joan would notice the similarities once the body was found.

 Maybe she would name a star after her. Girls liked that kind of thing, right?

 

**Critically Acclaimed**

“This is pathetic, I thought you would have had better taste than this.” Jamie chuckled at the sight before her, as she scrolled through Joan’s playlist.

 “First of all, stop snooping through my things” Joan plucked her iPod out of Jamie’s grasp “Second, you’ve murdered people, a few of my questionable song choices pale in comparison.”

 Jamie scoffed “You can’t keep using that one, dear. Besides,” Jamie reclined against the headboard “You actually purchased three One Direction songs.”

 “You own Lady Gaga’s entire discography…”

 “She’s critically acclaimed!” Jaime exclaimed incredulously. “And I didn’t pay for them.”

 Joan rolled on her side, facing away from Jamie. It was far too late, and she was far too tired to get in to this argument. She felt arms around her waist and tender kisses on her shoulder.

 “You’re cuddling again.” Joan muttered. “Someone will think you’ve gone soft.”

 “Hush Watson,” Jamie actually snuggled into Joan. “We’ve only a few hours before Sherlock figures out I’ve sent him on a fruitless mission.”

 “You can’t just break in and insult someone’s music collection.” Joan melted into the embrace. She was comfortable.

 “I’m sorry, dear.”

 “No you’re not.”

 

**The Voice**

 “Hey there, pretty brown eyes.” Jamie sang at the top of her lungs.

 “Stop!” Joan covered her ears and buried her face in her pillow.

 “Whatcha doing later tonight?” Jamie kept singing. She wouldn’t let Joan live this one down.

 Jamie had found yet another embarrassing song on Joan’s iPod. This time, it was by some Australian boy that Jamie never heard of. She spent the hour long, post orgasm nap Joan always fell in to, committing the lyrics to memory.

 “Don’t you have a bank to go rob or something?” Joan’s voice was muffled by the pillow.

 “Not until Thursday.” Jamie peppered kisses along the back of her neck, trying to coax her head back up.

 Joan lifted her head, suspicious look planted on her face. “I feel like there was some truth to that.” She trailed off.

 Jamie just shrugged her shoulders, puppy dog eyes in place, trying to look innocent. They’d know soon enough if she was actually going to rob a bank. Joan would figure it out. She always did, but now wasn’t the time for business.

 “Would you mind if I spend time with you?” Jamie resumed her singing.

 Joan groaned so loud, she’s pretty sure New Jersey heard her. She burrowed under the covers and decided to wait it out. It wasn’t a long song and Jamie’s voice wasn’t unpleasant. Of course Jamie could sing too. Joan made a mental note to be annoyed by that later.

 The screeching melted into a soothing rendition of “Pretty Brown Eyes” that was currently lulling Joan back to sleep. Well, that and the hand that was gently stroking her hair.

 “I could get us tickets to one of his shows if you’d like.” Jamie inquired teasingly.

 “Shut up.” Joan snuggled into Jamie’s form and awaited more singing and caressing.

 Jamie resumed the task until she was sure Joan was asleep again. She pulled the iPod from under her pillow and began searching for more songs to embarrass her with.

 “New Kids on the Block. Interesting.”

**Groceries**

The incessant ringing of her phone woke Joan. She blindly groped the vacant side of her bed for it. She found it on the far edge and swiped the screen to answer the call.

 "Hello." She said, voice still hoarse from sleep.

 "What breakfast foods do you prefer?"

 Joan groaned, loudly. She cursed herself for not checking to see who was calling before she answered. Of course Jamie would be calling at an ungodly hour.

 "Why?" Was all Joan could manage. It was too early for this.

 "I'm on my way to the market and I hoped to pick up some of your favorites."

 Joan could feel that shit eating grin through the phone. She stretched, trying to pull herself together. She needed her wits about her if this conversation was going to happen.

 "I'm not a big breakfast eater. Fruits, yogurt and coffee is fine." Joan hoped Jamie wasn't psychoanalyzing her breakfast choices.

 "Splendid. I'll have the kitchen stocked in no time." Jamie smiled, happy Joan didn't put her through the ringer to get an answer this time. There was hope for their not-relationship yet.

 "What exactly do you think i'll be doing in your kitchen?"

 Their previous meetings had been in random hotel rooms and restaurants. As far as the F.B.I knew, Jamie's only residence was a remote cabin in Ireland. No one was dim enough to believe that though.

 "I bought a piece of property not too far from you. I thought it better than the indiscriminate, hotels we've been meeting in."

 "You bought a place?" Joan had to make sure she heard that right.

 "Correct." Jamie answered immediately.

 "To be closer to me?" Joan questioned again.

 "It is just more convenient. Please don't get emotional on me, dear."

 Jamie's flippant tone spoke volumes. She bought a place to accommodate her and Joan's dalliances. What the fuck was Joan supposed to do with that?

 "I'll be sending you swatches and tile options, tonight. Please be speedy with your choices."

"Okay." Joan gave in. She didn't have the energy for this.

 "Wonderful. Goodbye, Joan." Jamie ended the call with some cheesy kissing noise she knew would annoy Joan.

 Joan tossed her phone on the bed, burrowed under the covers and attempted to go back to sleep. Maybe she would wake up in an alternate universe where she didn't just agree to play house with a criminal.

 "What did I just do?"

 

**House Hunters: NY**

"Marble is far more superior than wood."

 Jamie allowed her annoyance to bleed through her usual indifferent expression. They had been at it for hours. Jamie wanted marble flooring while Joan wanted to salvage the wood that lay underneath the existing tile. How noble of her, Jamie thought, always aiming to be a savior.

 "Marble gets cold and the density won't allow for an efficient underfloor, heating system." Joan was equally as annoyed. "I'm trying to be practical here."

 "I will not sacrifice the beauty of hand-cut, marble flooring. Stained wood pales in comparison to a marble, mosaic! " She shoved a dumpling in her mouth and chewed angrier than Joan thought possible. "All for what? So your feet stay warm?"

 "You don't appreciate heated flooring until you need it. Trust me." Joan replied calmly. She knew they would get nowhere if they were both angry. She stole noodles out of Jamie's carton when the other woman wasn't looking.

 They were seated on the bare floor of the living room in Jamie's new property. Joan agreed to come over to help Jamie decide on flooring in person since they couldn't agree on anything over the phone. Really, she just wanted to check out the place to see if Jamie took any of her other suggestions in to consideration. Surprisingly enough, she did. There was the exact California king bed Joan picked out of the catalog she was sent, in the bedroom. As well as the coffee maker she picked and a gas stove since she told Jamie she hated electric. All that was left was to choose the flooring that led from the bedroom to the living room.

 "I could buy you some slippers." Jamie said stealing a piece of beef from Joan's carton. "Ones that are fuzzy, and comfortable. Ones that will compensate for the cold floor."

 "No way." Joan almost screeched the words. There was no way she would commit to leaving personal items here and she wasn't going to bring them with her either. It would make her "I'm not staying" speeches a little less convincing even though she usually wound up staying.

 "Fuzzy socks?" Jamie tried again.

 "No."

 "Well, what do you want from me?" Jamie put her food down. Exhaustion was written all over her face. "I can compromise on many things but I will not have wood floors in our new home."

 Joan had been speechless since "our". How could such a simple word hold so much weight? She refused to entertain the idea of having things together. Joan was already ashamed of whatever kind of relationship they had, sharing anything other than veiled insults and orgasms was too much for her to think about at this point. At any point, really.

 "Our?" Joan asked.

 "I'm sorry?"

 "Nothing, just get the marble." Joan took to putting her food away and gathering her things.

 She was halfway through buttoning up her jacket when Jamie spoke again. "Technically it would be our home. I'll use it as a safe house when I'm in town and we can use it for our meetings."

 Joan could tell that Jamie was panicking. She had that same look when Sherlock returned home a few hours earlier than Jamie planned.

 "Do what you want." Joan threw her trash away and bee lined for the door.

 "You can have your wood floor, but I am getting the claw foot tub instead of the Jacuzzi tub you asked for." Jamie hoped her desperation wasn't showing through. It wasn't an easy emotion to admit to having. Joan was learning how to distinguish between her emotions and Jamie refused to make it any easier.  

 "I really don't care."

 "Don't be that way Watson." Jamie began collecting her own things. "Temper tantrums don't suit you."

 "I'm not having a temper tantrum, I just don't care what you do with your place."

 Joan left, leaving Jamie to her own thought. The "your" stung more than she would ever admit to. Jamie hadn't been careless with her use of "our". After accepting the fact that she didn't want to cut the cord on this connection just yet, she hoped to show Joan that she planned to stick around for a little longer. So much for that.

 The door opened five minutes later. Jamie quickly reached for her gun, but concealed it when she saw Joan's head poke through the crack.

 "You're getting the Jacuzzi tub, but you can have marble counter-tops."

 Joan didn't wait for an answer, she left for a second time. Jamie smiled at that, knowing she would give in. Saying no to Joan was quickly becoming an issue Jamie thought she left behind in adolescence. Maybe now wouldn't be the best time to broach the subject of getting a fish together. One small victory at a time.

 Jamie could have analyzed the fact that she actually hadn't won anything. She wasn't getting her marble floor or claw foot tub. She also could have analyzed the fact that keeping Joan in her life was considered a win now. But that could be left for another day.

 

**Family Game Night**

"Well, obviously you would win. Had I spent my adult life learning to keep a steady hand, we would have been more evenly matched." Jamie poured herself another glass of wine and reclined against the cushions of Joan’s new sofa. "The game was designed in your favor from the very beginning."

 "You can never just let me win, can you?" Joan scooped the remaining Jenga pieces back in to the game box. "Losing to me is becoming a habit of yours, you should start learning how to cope with it."

 Jamie ignored the jab, between Mario Kart, a game of strip Operation, and Jenga, Jamie’s ego was more than a little battered, at the moment. The cold, hardwood floor on her bare legs made her curse Joan for not opting to get carpeting. She stared at her pants, that were draped across the arm of the sofa, with disdain. The pants that she lost when Joan managed to remove the butterflies in the stomach, while in a headlock.

 "If you’re cold, you can have your pants back."

 "I am not cold." Jamie replied, stubbornly.

 

"At least take your sweater back." Joan took some pity on her shivering form. "Your bra is really ugly and I’d appreciate it if you covered up."

 "I could always just take it off."

 "You're annoying." Joan rolled her eyes for, what felt like, the millionth time that day.

 "How about a game of darts?" Jamie sipped her wine slowly, plotting ways to win her clothes back.

 "I don't trust you with sharp objects. "

 "Poker?"

 "And you expect me to believe that you don't know how to count cards?"

 "Trivia?" Jamie tried again.

 "I lost $200 dollars to Sherlock the last time we played Jeopardy, I doubt I would fair any better with you."

 "What do you suggest then?"

 "I suggest that you leave and I go to bed."

 Joan rose, clearing the mess that they made off of her floor. There were Thai takeout cartons, wine bottles, and random items of clothes, mostly Jamie's, laying about.

 "You're a mean one, Watson."

 "I learned from the best." Jamie's face lit up. "That wasn't a compliment." Jamie's smile remained.

 "Good night, then."

 Jamie sent a text to her driver, informing him to meet her in front of Joan's building. She grabbed her purse and walked over to the door.

 "You're not going to walk out of here like that, are you?" Joan asked.

 She knew Jamie was stubborn but the other woman only had her underwear and a bra on.

 "You refuse to allow me a chance to win them back, so I guess I have to."

 "Will you stop being stubborn and take your clothes?"

 Jamie opened the door. "You won them fair and square. Good night Watson." She strut out of Joan's apartment like she wasn't half naked.

 Joan grabbed all of Jamie's clothes and headed to the window. She curled them in to a ball and waited. She had to time this perfectly. Once she spotted the door opening, Joan released the clothing. Bulls-eye

 There was shouting but Joan closed the window before she could decipher what was being said. She would deal with Jamie being a stubborn little shit later.


End file.
